


Words of Commitments and Love

by XenakisFox



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles
Genre: Eloping (of sorts), Fluff, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 13:32:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4830914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XenakisFox/pseuds/XenakisFox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alvis proposes to Kallian while they are tucked into bed in the middle of the night. Dreamy kallvis marriage sap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words of Commitments and Love

A couple was married in the gardens that afternoon. A rather tall woman with long, dark grey hair, and a man with long silver beard. Alvis did not attend, for he had other duties to see to, but the details of the event do not escape his seemingly boundless knowledge. They exchanged vows with wide smiles, and the bride had to dab a tear away when her love preformed the traditional reveal of wings. An age old gesture in which the two to be married pull away a gossamer veil from each other’s faces and headwings. It signifies showing one’s true self to their partner, giving yourself over wholly to the commitment of marriage. In more modern times, what with the integration of Homs blood into High Entian society, exchanging _jewelry_ had become more and more prevalent. Anything from bracelets to necklaces to rings, it represents a _bond_ between the two people.

The palace hosted the ceremony for a rather steep price, but it surely was worth it considering the amount of people who showed up and the services provided. The entire left wing smelled of pastries and multitudes of different dinners for the reception.

It is when Alvis is digging through _his_ love’s drawers for a shirt to sleep in that these thoughts collect more clearly; commitments and vows and celebrations…

“Kallian?” he prompts, glancing over at the prince who is still going over letters from various ministers in bed, “What are your thoughts on marriage?” Thin digits finally find one of his silkier night shirts, and he slips it on with ease, the garment quite baggy on his dainty frame. He wears a pair of the other’s pajama pants as well, soft fabric gathering at his feet.

“What do you mean?” the other responds. Alvis knows he has not even looked up from the papers.

Seer turns and begins to walk over to the large bed, arms swinging to let the oversized sleeves of Kallian’s shirt sway past the tips of his fingers. “Marriage. You know, a commitment—“

“I am aware of what marriage _is_ , but why are you asking?” he looks up then, teal eyes gazing over his reading glasses, “Are you referring to the ceremony today in the garden?”

“No, no,” when the smaller man reaches the bed, he sits with his legs folded underneath him near the edge, “I suppose I should be more specific. Marriage as… a concept. A bond between two who love each other.”

The High Entian’s gaze softens, though it seems tired rather than warm. “Alvis, we have talked about this. We cannot… _be_ bonded. Not in the eyes of the people. Not in the way my father and mother would like.”

“I am not asking about _us_ , darling,” his bright eyes have not lost their sparked interest, “Simply… marriage. What are your thoughts?”

Kallian stares for a moment before removing his glasses and folding the letters, speaking has he places them neatly on the nightstand to his left. The prince is without a shirt that evening, however he is sporting trousers similar to the ones Alvis has chosen for himself, and the smaller attempts not to become distracted as he awaits a proper response. “I think it is beautiful. It’s _love_ , Alvis. What more do you want me to say?”

“What kind of cake would you like at your own ceremony? I know you enjoy vanilla very much. Perhaps a buttercream?” the seer is moving to lay on his belly, hands folded underneath his chin, looking up at the other like a curious, adolescent girl, “Humor me.”

Head dips down as the prince smiles sweetly. “Well, you are right about the vanilla. I would want it to be simple, but elegant. Ah, and the frosting cannot be too _thick_ ,” he raises his eyebrows at Alvis, expression informative, “I honestly think most the frostings on wedding cakes are too much.”

“Fair enough. Do you think you would compromise for chocolate, though?”

“Perhaps a combination. Would marble suffice?”

“That sounds lovely.” Seer is grinning now, careful silvery hues catching how thoughts seem to dance across the other’s features. After a moment, he continues. “What about the music? Most receptions have more upbeat tunes to dance to.”

A nod in agreement precedes his response. “Something formal for the ceremony itself and then, _ohh_ , something jazz related? Catchy.”

“You do love dancing with Melia to that genre.”

Kallian is staring off elsewhere, gaze seeming to catch the Ether stars in the sky above. “Melia would be beautiful as accompaniment to a wedding. She and father dancing like… they used to,” he blinks, wide smile somewhat embarrassed, “What about lavender? For the colors? You look amazing in shades of purple.”

“All I wear are shades of purple, love.”

“Is that supposed to sway my opinion?”

Alvis chuckles into his palms. “No, I suppose not.”

Their conversation dissolves into simple brainstorming for a wedding neither would admit was their own. What food would be catered, and who would make it ( they are in mutual agreement that the food be supplied by independent establishments in the capitol ), who would wear what ( separate suits, not matching completely, however each with surface embellishments to link them ),  and what sorts of flowers would adorn the event ( roses and lilies, primarily ). Everything from the place, to the time of day, to the seating arrangements are brought up in passing thought. The two have since laid down, the bright glow of an Ether lamp extinguished and replaced with a smaller, dimmer light source.

Alvis intertwines his fingers with Kallian’s, lips brushing over the man’s knuckles. The prince’s fingers are usually heavy with various rings, but they have been removed, leaving calloused fingers oddly bare.

“I would need a stool,” seer says, words mused quietly into the back of his lover’s hand.

“--Hm?”

“To remove your veil,” he smiles, metallic eyes looking up at sleepy blue ones. It was getting late, and yet they cannot sleep. Not yet.

Kallian breathes a laugh and leans forward to peck the smaller’s forehead. “What an amusing sight that would be.”

“A stool or… unusually tall heels. Stilts, maybe.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous dilemmas require ridiculous solutions, Prince Kallian.”

“But of course,” he shifts closer, nuzzling the top of the seer’s head, “ _Please_ , bring stilts to our wedding, Alvis,” he pauses, a heaviness settling between them at words that had merely slipped out. His tone is quieter when he poses his question, cheek resting near the part in the smaller’s long hair. “Would you like to exchange rings? That is customary for Homs, is it not?”

“I am content with whichever.” Fleeting kisses are pressed to the prince’s fingers, and Alvis smiles suddenly, form moving such that he may meet Kallian’s half-lidded gaze. “Will you marry me?”

Pale, fatigued hues suddenly spring to attention, bewilderment gracing sharp features. “A-Alvis, we… can’t. You know this--”

“Marry me, Kallian. _Here_ , right now.”

“-- _What_?”

The smaller man pulls out of their embrace, though he keeps hold of the other’s hand. Sitting up, he grins rather mischievously. “It will not be formal, with Ether colored roses and a musical ensemble, but it will be us. That is what’s important.”

“I--” words seem to escape him, and a thousand ponderings cross his expression in just a few seconds. Shock fades, however, instead replaced with something warmer; or perhaps that is the blush that colors his cheeks. “Alright, Alvis.”

Soon they are both sitting upright, legs crossed, sitting across from each other on the prince’s large bed.

“Give me your hands,” seer says quietly, as if someone would burst in and discover them. The other does so, and they clasp their palms together tightly. Alvis thinks for a moment, remembering what sorts of things were recited at weddings. A greeting to the gathering of people. Surely that could be skipped, considering their lack of an audience. Then the wedding officiant would say a few words, something that could also be forgotten.

They abruptly speak at the same time, interrupting each other’s words before Kallian grins and brings their hands together. “Go ahead, my apologies.” Alvis chuckles at that, reveling in the heat of the other’s hold.

The vows. The words of promise… of _commitment_. Of love.

“Kallian,” he begins, attention moving from their handholding to his prince’s eyes, “I am… fortunate. I am so _fortunate_ to have you in my life. You are the stars to me – you are the Ether inside me, and I cannot recall a time I have been happier than when I am with you, and you alone,” his words are sincere, and his very _being_ feels light for it; for Kallian, “I promise to always love you. No matter what may happen or how much time we may be apart. -- I promise that nothing will separate us. I will always be with _you_ , and you with _me_. You have become too much a part of who I am to ever leave,” his smile widens as he notices the other’s teal hues become progressively glassier, “I promise to care for you, whatever the condition, or circumstances. You are… everything to me. I will not ever forget that.”

The larger man sniffs, lifting a hand to awkwardly wipe the backs of his fingers across his right eye. “ _Bionis_ , I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

Seer chuckles, shifting his hand from their firm grasp to cup the side of his lover’s face, thumb wiping away a falling tear. “Were my vows alright?”

“They were perfect. You’re so--” he shakes his head, leaning into his palm, “I cannot kiss you until the end?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“No exceptions?”

“It is your turn, love.”

He clears his throat with a nod, taking the smaller’s hand back into his own. “Alvis,” again, he clears his throat, no doubt to remove the choking sensation of slowly welling tears, “I feel as though I will never be able to express my feelings in such a way that… that makes _sense_. I cannot convey my love in the same way I give speeches, or speak with others. Because you are not like the others. You are _you_. My light, the song in my voice and the—the-” he cuts off, hands squeezing the other man’s with a nervous laugh, “The warmth in my chest. I—I promise never to let that go. To never let _you_ go. I promise to be there for you, for whatever you need. I am yours, as… for as long as you will have me,” Alvis squeezes his hands this time, and the prince bows his head bashfully, sniffling, “I promise to always love you; _whatever_ may happen, I will love you. _Always_.”

Handholding is broken once more as the seer goes to wipe the other’s face, smiling fondly. “Why are you crying?”

“I love you,” the High Entian replies, moving closer to him, “I love you so much, Alvis.”

“And I love you, Kallian. More than I feel I can understand,” his tone is gentle and level, and he takes a deeper breath, eyes searching the prince’s face for _something_ , “It is… _beyond_ my realm of knowledge.”

“You do not need to understand it,” he is leaning into the Homs now, his tears seeming to have subsided a bit, “I—I cannot explain it myself.” There is a sudden urge to kiss him – hard and quick and without stopping for as long as their lungs can take. Fingers slide around to the back of his neck, and, _oh_ , his form is fluttering, from his toes to the tips of digits that interlock at the nape of—

“Wait, wait,” Alvis interrupts, and Kallian groans softly. An airy chuckle. “Rings. We need the… the—your rings! Perfect.”

“ _My_ rings?”

Alvis is soon sliding off the bed, much to his lover’s discontent, making to the other’s jewelry box on the opposite side of the room. When he returns, Kallian is slouched over, and the seer offers an amused grin as he settles back onto the sheets. He holds out two rings to the other man.

“I grabbed the first two I could find. Pick one.”

Blue eyes look down at his hand, and Kallian does so with a weary smile. “Alright.”

Lips pursing, seer takes his love’s hand, easily sliding the ring onto the proper finger. It is a completely silver one, a band of cerulean circling around the center. “I could find a veil for you,” Alvis says, thumb rubbing over the ring’s surface.

“I think I like the rings better, actually,” the prince does the same, however it seems easily prone to sliding off. It is a wider band, most likely meant for one’s thumb, and it has a large opaque blue jewel in the center. “Your hands are too small, dear,” a lighthearted laugh follows his comment, and the other pouts.

“It makes no difference to me,” he raises his arms, welcoming the other man back into an embrace, “Now kiss me.”

It is not a single kiss, and certainly not a gesture that would be fitting for a public wedding. They are _feverous_ despite the fatigue from staying up far too late for their small ceremony, and dark hands are back around the larger’s neck, holding him close as they delve hungrily for what feels like ages. When the High Entian pulls the smaller up onto his lap, another idea strikes Alvis, though the motivation to break off heavy meeting of lips and tongue is nearly nonexistent. Kallian is the one to direct attentions elsewhere, his breathing thick while pressing kisses to his lover’s throat.

“ _Kallian_ ,” he swallows, fingers combing into the other man’s silvery hair, “Kallian we could get _cake_.”

“ _Mmn_ , I am just fine with _you_.” Teeth meet soft skin, biting tenderly; teasingly.

“There are probably leftovers in the kitchens,” his words are incredibly breathy – it is difficult to sort his thoughts with wandering hands across his abdomen, “Come with me?”

The prince pauses, forehead pressing to his shoulder with a sigh before leaning back. “You really want to sneak into the kitchens to eat cake in the middle of the night?”

“I think it is a wonderful idea, sneaking around with my husband,” he grins at the other’s blush, “Please?”

“Okay, okay,” he pecks the Homs’ lips and leans back.

They are intertwining fingers as they leave royal chambers, bare feet silent whilst moving down the hall. Kallian has donned a light robe for the excursion, so as not to catch a chill; it flows behind him elegantly as they make their way. Large corridors are still, void of any guards or usual bustling of daytime. It is just the two of them here, and they cannot help the giggles under their breath as they pause at corners to share drawling kisses and ensure the fact that they were truly alone. This is their palace tonight – their playground, their home. When they reach the kitchens, Alvis speaks lowly as he tugs Kallian over to the line of refrigerators against the wall to their right.

“Alvis Antiqua. How does that sound?”

The other’s response is muffled, as he attempts to withhold a chuckle against his hand. “It does not flow as well as one might think.”

“Yumea Antiqua is quite a mouthful as well, you know.”

“Oh, taking jabs at your mother-in-law already?”

“Might as well, hm?” Seer’s hand finds the door handle of the first fridge, pulling it open and bathing the two in white light. It is full of vegetables for the most part, and Alvis is quick to shut it with a disappointed grunt. It is a few refrigerators later before they find the leftover pastries: everything from small desserts to what the smaller is actually looking for. Letting go of Kallian’s hand, he reaches out to take a large platter into his arms. The prince assists him in getting it onto the nearest counter, and he pulls off the lid to reveal—

“Caramel?” the High Entian says, his nose scrunching up, “Who puts caramel on a wedding cake?”

“Oh, it’s not that bad.”

“I can’t eat this.”

“Kallian,” Homs is reaching into a drawer for silverware now, promptly holding out a fork for the other, “Eat. No pickiness.” Smaller takes the first bite, looking quite content as he goes for another. His partner seems quite adverse, however takes a little piece onto his fork and eats it tentatively. Alvis rolls his eyes and promptly holds up his utensil, a larger bite stuck on the prongs. The prince sighs and eats it, the other smiling pleasantly as he retracts his outstretched arm.

They eventually cut out a piece to share instead of picking off the cake as a whole, and store the rest back in the fridge. Unless someone had measured the dessert beforehand, no one would ever know of their late night escapades. Alvis eats most of it, in between feeding Kallian and quiet conversation, and when they are finished, the seer slumps over the countertop, seeming quite pleased. The other reaches out, one hand combing into his long, messy mane of hair.

“Ready for bed?”

“Mhm,” he pauses, looking up at the High Entian with large eyes, “Carry me?”

“You’re joking,” his expression melts into mild exasperation when his lover replies with a whine, “—As you wish, _dear_.”

“That is dear _husband_ , to you.”

Alvis busses their plate before having his prince take him up into his safe hold, arms circling comfortably around his neck as he is carried bridal-style back to their chambers. Homs nuzzles into his neck as they go, absently kissing along the side while musing lowly. “How tired are you? We do not have to go right to bed.”

“Ah, we probably _should_ ,” the other man responds, leaning into the attention, his own tone coy, “I am a little sleepy.”

“I could wake you up; it _would_ be our wedding night, after all.”

“Perhaps you should explain exactly how you would go about _waking me_ before I become too invested and lose sleep.”

Seer smiles against his skin. “I assure you would be even _more_ fatigued when I’m finished with y-”

“--Brother?”

Kallian freezes, as does Alvis, arms clinging tighter around his neck for fear the prince would drop him out of shock. “Melia?” his exclamation is hushed, “Melia, what are you doing out so late?”

The young princess approaches them slowly, rubbing the back of her hand across one eye. “I might dare to ask _you two_ the same question.”

It is a relief that their encounter is only with Melia – the only soul in Alcamoth that knew of their relationship. Alvis infers it is the only reason the larger man has not dropped him.

“I-I--” the High Entian sputters for a good excuse before his _partner in crime_ chimes in, leaning his head against the man’s neck.

“We got _married_ , Melia.”

“Alvis!”

“You _what_? Who--? A-And where?” her small wings spread out in obvious offense, “And why was I not informed?!”

“Sister, it was not _official_ , we -- we merely… exchanged words. That’s all,” he looks away, clearly embarrassed. Alvis can feel the warm blush spreading across his face and down his neck.

“Just the two of you?” her smile is simply radiant, even in the dark hallway. Her hands clasp behind her back as she continues. “How _romantic_.”

Now the prince’s wings begin to ruffle, and he seems to hold the smaller man closer to himself defensively. “I— _you should be in bed_ , Melia. What are you doing out here?”

The young empress-to-be puts a hand to her mouth, giggling. “There was a wedding this afternoon. I was… coming to see if there were any leftovers.”

“There are,” the Homs says, closing his eyes whilst resting his head against Kallian’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Alvis,” she replies sweetly, her brother visibly bristling in response. He begins to hastily walk past her, his hold on the small man in his arms never loosening.

“The cake is delicious-!” seer adds before they are too far away. He can still hear her chuckling in his ears when they reach Kallian’s room. There is an urge to tease him further, however he knows better than to fluster the man more than necessary. Such actions might also lower his chances of _other_ activities taking place.

They settle back into bed slowly, the prince laying the other down softly before climbing over him, grinning at his gentle, amused laughter. Large headwings fold inwards as lazy kisses ensue, and Alvis is quick to wrap his legs around the other man’s waist, ensuring close proximity. Heated meeting hardly extends farther than kissing ( and a faint moan or two escaping parted lips ), however, as Kallian seems to relax a bit too much when the seer begins tenderly sucking on his throat. The prince rolls over with a sigh, taking his lover with him, hugging him against his chest.

Alvis hums, shifting a leg to intertwine with the other’s. “Too tired?” Disappointing, but simple cuddling was more than fine by the seer. As long as he is enveloped in Kallian’s warmth, he is content.

“Mmn.”

A chuckle from the smaller, one arm moving to return the embrace. “—I love you, Kallian.”

“I love you, too, Alvis.”


End file.
